James Somers - The Realm Shift

“My lord, we are on our way to seek an audience with our Lord Mordred,” Horace said. His flattery was as obvious as he meant it to be. They did not dare attempt to pass the man on the road. “If you would like, my lord, our company will yield the road to you and go around.”

The rider in black said absolutely nothing. Horace turned sideways in his saddle to inform the others. They would go around. “Follow me, lads.”

Only Ethan saw what happened next, as it occurred too fast for any of the other men to notice. Ethan felt the air sucked away as in a vacuum. Time seemed to stagger around him. A bee drifted before his face. Ethan saw each flap of its paper-thin wings. The boy sat in awe of the world around him-sounds never heard before, colors never envisioned. The scene became distinct and overwhelming. The Wraith Rider stood up in his stirrups.

As Horace Howinger bent sideways in his saddle, beginning to turn back toward the rider in black, the warrior reached for a sword upon his back. With one extremely swift, smooth motion, the Wraith Rider pulled the weapon from its place and whipped it forward in a precise arc terminating at Horace Howinger’s chest. Ethan’s benefactor of nine years never even knew what had hit him.

Ethan watched the event unfold, but he felt like a slug in a race. His body could not keep up with his senses. Ethan tried to pull the sword from his cloak, to scream, anything. He felt mired as in a pit of tar.

Voices, like a hundred women lamenting their lost children, echoed in Ethan’s ears. He saw a horde of demons swarm toward his group from the trees. The horses understood the danger. They bucked and whinnied frantically beneath their riders. The men did not know to flee. None of them seemed to realize anything had happened yet-only that Horace had, just that moment, let out a whimpering cry before them.

Whistler went completely wild beneath Ethan. He tried to control the animal. Demons crashed into the men around him like a mighty wave of the sea. The raw power of the attack sent horses and riders tumbling through the air.

Whistler lurched forward, and Ethan lost his grip. He fell from the saddle, hitting his head hard enough to produce stars in his vision. His right foot caught in the stirrup, and Whistler dragged him. Ethan tried to reach up for the saddle horn, but some part of the terrain knocked the wind from his lungs, and everything went black.

Ethan’s head ached as he regained consciousness. He reached up to a sore spot on the back of his head before opening his eyes. When he brought his hand back from the stinging bump at the base of his neck, he opened his eyes to slits and saw fresh blood upon his fingers.

Ethan tried to get up and realized his foot was twisted. His entire right leg ached terribly. A shadow advanced over him. Ethan looked up and saw Whistler standing there next to him. The horse slowly chewed a muzzle full of grass as he grazed. Ethan’s foot was still wedged in the right stirrup.

He turned his leg to release the toe of his boot. The leg fell numb to the ground with a thud. Ethan wondered if anything might be broken. A horrible tingling took over in the leg as the blood flow returned to normal. Ethan endured a sensation like hundreds of spiders dancing beneath his skin. He turned his head and realized what horrible things had happened during his unconsciousness.

He and Whistler were now some distance from the road where the attack had taken place. Ethan now knew Whistler had saved his life by dragging him away from the gruesome scene depicted before him. He stood to his feet, mumbling, “How can this be?”

Ethan hobbled toward the road. As he came nearer, a curtain of carrion-feeding birds and flies begrudged him the disturbance. Ethan stood there horrified. The delegation bore little resemblance to human beings now. The ten men, and Mr. Howinger, were dead. But, more than that, they had been slaughtered in ways beyond human comprehension.

Some of the company, including horses, dangled like moss in nearby trees. Ethan did not believe a lone Wraith Rider could have accomplished this. He realized the demons he had seen were as real in the physical world as they were in the spiritual. They had crossed the boundary, normally confining them, and had entered the physical world with power beyond comprehension.

Ethan fought to keep gut-wrenching nausea at bay. He turned away from the scene. On the road behind, where he and the others had been when the attack came, Ethan saw one distinct set of hoof prints heading back toward Grandee. Ethan ran to the place where the rider had been sitting stoically upon his mount. He confirmed his suspicion. The rider had not turned and gone back the way he came. He and his demon forces are going to Grandee…and Elspeth!

Ethan flew into a panic. He was a half-day’s travel from his home. He found the overturned wagon where their supplies had been. They had been scattered in every direction upon the ground as though by an explosion. Among the discarded weapons, Ethan found another sword, this one a two handed broadsword which he thought he could handle.

Ethan fastened the scabbard to Whistler’s saddle and took two of the water skins and some jerky. He had not eaten all day and his strength was ebbing away. Ethan climbed back into the saddle and regarded Howinger’s delegation of peaceful cooperation one last time before goading the stallion into a full gallop toward Grandee.

Nightfall forced Ethan to stop traveling toward Grandee. But when daylight came again, the first thing he noticed was a huge column of black smoke rising above the horizon. Grandee, he thought.

When Ethan finally cleared the last hill obstructing his view, his fears were confirmed immeasurably. There were about twenty large buildings in the town of Grandee. All but one of them had a plume of smoke rising from it. Ethan rode slower now. Whistler seemed hesitant to continue into the remains of the town. Ethan decided to turn east and go directly to the Howinger farm. He had to know what had happened to his sister. At the same time, he feared what he might find when he arrived.

It took Ethan nearly an hour to make his way around the perimeter of the town and then out to Mr. Howinger’s farm. As feared, a great cloud of smoke hovered over the place where the barns and the home were located. Ethan and Whistler made their way up the road leading to the farmhouse. It appeared mostly intact. One of the barns smoldered in the distance.

Tears streamed down Ethan’s cheeks even as he fought the urge to break down. Nothing moved on the farm as he and Whistler approached the main house. He did not have any idea what he was going to do or even what he could do. Ethan had always depended upon Elspeth.

Mustering his courage, Ethan climbed down from Whistler’s saddle and walked toward the open front door. As he got closer, it became apparent the door was not merely standing open-it was gone. The entire frame was missing along with it.

The house still smoldered, and light funneled into the main room from a large hole in the ceiling created by the fire. Ethan walked inside. The room was a complete shamble. The furniture, not destroyed by fire, lay smashed into kindling by…something.

Ethan saw no blood and no body. He was alarmed, yet relieved at the same time. Where could she be, if not here in the house? Ethan moved quicker now, emboldened by the lack of his sister’s body. He made a quick survey through all of the rooms in the house, still turning up nothing.

Outside, around the farm, Ethan found seven bodies, all men. He recognized them as the field hands Mr. Howinger kept on regular salary to help work his farm. Some of them had been family men. Casting an eye back toward Grandee and the smoke billowing into the sky above it, Ethan wondered what had become of their wives and children.